Never Going Back Again
by gigundoly
Summary: Artie's never going back to either of them, right? That's the plan. Set during the summer after season 2, this is a story about the unexpected and how plans often change without warning.
1. All the Things She Said

_Author's Note: Hi! I haven't written anything in a very long time. I got the idea to write a story about where Artie is now, after two failed relationships. For now, you'll only see Artie's name in the place where you stick featured characters. I don't think I'm going to tell you just yet what ship will sail, if any. Some of my ideas come from roleplay games I've been in. I'm planning to adapt a scene written by myself and another person later on. When that scene is used, I'll credit her. Enjoy! R&R please. _

* * *

><p>Artie Abrams awoke in disarray, initially unsure of where he was or how he'd gotten there. Sunlight streamed into a window, straight through his thin eyelids, abruptly altering the plan of continuing in his blissful slumber. Not that it had been all that blissful, sleeping on the sofa in Puck's basement. He'd had to ask his buddy with the mohawk to hunt down half a dozen pillows to create a sleeping surface that wouldn't put him at risk for pressure sores. The rest of the guys snored around him, all curled up in various locations on the floor with nothing but sleeping bags and one or two pillows. Well, all but Kurt. He'd disappeared to sleep upstairs in Puck's room around 1:00 AM. The liter of empty red plastic cups and pizza boxes had pushed their pristine friend to the limit. He swore that this would be his last summer slumber party with the rest of the guys. But they all knew he would be back. He always came back. He'd just probably bring Blaine for moral support next time.<p>

Why did all the parties have to happen in basements? Rachel Berry's party had been in a basement, too. Not that his friends minded hauling his chair down, but Artie minded just a teensy bit. But he was never in the habit of telling his friends that he minded, especially when there was nothing anyone could do about it.

They'd been considerate enough to leave Artie and his wheelchair a clear path to the bathroom, the tiny one that was just barely wide enough to accommodate his chair. It was when he was moving himself from the sofa back into his chair that Artie noticed a little memento his friends had bestowed upon him during the night. They'd played the typical joke of messing with the first person to fall asleep, only Artie had been an especially easy target since he couldn't feel below his waist. His toenails were decorated with bright pink polish, obviously the work of an amateur pedicurist.

He eyed Sam and Puck snoozing nearby one another, almost too close for comfort. He'd bet anything it was those two. Puck probably swiped the polish from his little sister and got Sam to hold Artie's foot in the air. He considered what he could do to them, but the options were limited since Puck and Sam had feeling in all parts of their bodies. Deciding to give up the idea of revenge, Artie wheeled himself to the bathroom where he'd attempt to complete his usual morning routine in less than half the usual amount of space.

When Artie emerged from the cramped bathroom an hour and a half later, the other guys were still snoozing away. All but Sam, who had taken over the couch. He had also taken Artie's phone captive and looked a little guilty when Artie caught him in the middle of a game of Angry Birds. (Or maybe he was feeling guilty over the surprise pedicure they'd forced upon a sleeping Artie during the wee hours of the morning.) Since Artie knew Sam only had a crappy Walmart cell phone, he didn't hold it against the other guy. And then Sam relayed the text message Artie had received while he was in the bathroom.

"It's from Brittany and I think I've deciphered all the spelling errors," Sam announced, clearing his throat to read the text in a high voice that was supposed to be an impression of Brittany. "Hey, ex-boyfriend, I love you! How about going on a ReWalk in town today? I went to your house to pick it up. Your mom said it was okay. I'll be at Puck's to pick you up. See you soon!" Sam lowered the phone. "Wait, how's she getting here? In a car? She drives?"

Artie nodded as Sam shuddered slightly. It was strange how Brittany seemed to text and call more now than when they were dating. Perhaps she liked Artie better when she wasn't dating him. Her summer project was getting him to go places in his ReWalk. He didn't have the heart to tell her that the stares they got because of the bulky, noisy device made him very uncomfortable. It delighted her to see Artie "walking" again, even thought it wasn't quite the magical cure she'd been asking for at Christmas. He could never bring himself to tell her no. If this was the only way for him to see Brittany, so be it.

"Hey, Jake Sully, I have a question," Sam piped up, his fishy lips puckered in deep thought. Artie didn't mind the Avatar references by now; he was used to them. "How come you don't drive? You _could_, right? Like, they make special hand controls for cars, don't they? I saw it on TV."

"I plan to learn."

"When?"

"It's complicated."

Sam chewed his enormous lower lip. "Well, until then, you get to put your life in Brittany's hands." His fleshy lips then stretched across his face in a wide smile that soon had Artie grinning as well. "Hope you don't die."

"We're just going into town." Artie shrugged it off, but truthfully, her driving did make him a little nervous. She drove a sporty yellow Mustang convertible with no regard for the speed limit or yielding the right of way to others. She liked to blare songs by obscure girl groups of the nineties, like t.A.T.u or M2M or BeWitched. It was by sheer luck that she hadn't been in an accident.

"Etrìpa syayvi," said Sam.

Na'vi again. Artie had learned a few phrases for Sam's amusement during a recent attempt at male bonding. He did not, however, remember off-hand what etrìpa syayvi meant. In context, it wasn't too difficult to figure out that Sam was merely wishing Artie good luck. "Yeah, thanks."

Sam looked slightly disappointed that Artie didn't try to answer him in Na'vi.

Finn and Puck were awake now, which was lucky since Artie needed two or three of them to muscle him up the stairs when Brittany arrived a half an hour later. She stayed in her Mustang and honked three times to announce her arrival. He declined Puck and Sam's offer to hoist him into the car, maintaining that he could manage just fine on his own. Finn stuck his wheelchair in the back where it joined the ReWalk, which Brittany had already fetched from his house. With Brittany now transporting every piece of assistive equipment Artie owned, including Artie himself, there was plenty of reason to be wary of her driving. Sam said something else in Na'vi that probably meant _d_o_n't get yourself killed._ Artie just waved in reply as Brittany backed out of the driveway. She hopped the curb and giggled before straightening out the car.

"Let's go to the public library," said Brittany, throwing Artie for a loop. Not only that, but it was then that he noticed she was wearing glasses. Not only glasses, actually, but a short pleated skirt held up with suspenders, a white Oxford shirt with the top four buttons undone, and a red bra that peeked out conspicuously. The sudden makeover didn't puzzle him nearly as much as their new destination. The library?


	2. Fall to Pieces

_Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the response to my new story. I am trying to stay a chapter ahead as I post so I have actually already written what's to come next, bahahahaha! I changed the title, adding the word 'again' because I just realize that word was in the song's title. I hope you enjoy the twists and turns ahead._

* * *

><p>Why did he allow Brittany to select the library as an appropriate place for the ReWalk? The machine was noisy enough in ordinary places. But the silent environment of the Lima Public Library, the mechanical noises echoed off the walls and high ceilings, causing every person sitting at the tables or wandering between the shelves to fix Artie with a curious stare. Nevertheless, Brittany was beside herself when Artie had stood in the complicated contraption once more. He did enjoy making her happy. He would use it just to see her reaction.<p>

Besides, he could reach things! There were books on the shelves that he might have otherwise passed on just because it wasn't worth the trouble. His first instinct was to wander over to the biographies and check out the books that were now within his reach. But he realized that Brittany looked a little lost and probably didn't know where to begin. "What kind of book did you want?" he asked her, gently.

Her blue eyes were wide with what looked like fear. "I... don't know." Her confident and bubbly demeanor disappeared as she looked around, quite lost. "Me and Santana used to cuddle up and watch her old tapes of the Sweet Valley Twins," she said, wistfully.

Artie had never managed to convince Brittany that what she and Santana were doing had been cheating. He had given up that battle because he would never win. Besides, after calling her 'stupid,' he'd been overcome with guilt. Santana no longer mattered. What mattered was making Brittany smile again and having her pronounce him to be the best boyfriend she'd ever had.

"You... used to?" He hadn't failed to notice her use of past tense. Either they didn't care for the Sweet Valley Twins any more or Brittany meant something else. The way her lower lip trembled as Artie questioned her made it pretty clear that something had happened between the girls. Artie was surprised when he didn't immediately jump for joy at those words. What subdued his elation? Maybe just the knowledge that he was still Brittany's second choice.

"Do you think this library carries those?" Brittany went on, as if Artie hadn't just asked a question. She was smarter than people gave her credit for. She certainly knew how to avoid topics she didn't want to discuss.

"Uh, what, Sweet Valley Twins?" Artie had heard of those, only because his sister had owned almost the entire series at one time before she sold them all on eBay. Had he known Brittany liked the books, he might have been able to salvage a few for his former girlfriend. "Sure, they're probably in the children's area..." When Brittany actually looked embarrassed, he went on to say, "Children's and young adults' area, I mean." She looked relieved.

The children's area was upstairs, although Artie wasn't quite ready to handle stairs yet. They took the elevator for that reason. When they reached the second floor and the door opened, Brittany's tense expression finally relaxed. It was clear that she felt more at home surrounded by the bright colors and friendly decor of the children's section. It only confirmed what Artie feared: Brittany had been trying to change herself for Artie. She wanted him to think she was smart.

"Hey, Brittany," he said, catching her by the elbow. She'd located her beloved children's book series and appeared intent on combing through the shelf for new reading material. "Um, I think it's great that you like these books. I... I personally like reading the Hardy Boys series myself."

"Well, reading is very important," said Brittany, with a serious nod as she adjusted her glasses. He sighed. She was still trying to prove her intelligence to him, and he didn't know how to make her stop. He also didn't know why she was suddenly trying to impress him by acting smart. And then, without warning, it hit him.

"Hey, Brittany?" Did he really want to know? He decided he couldn't just keep avoiding it. Eventually, he was going to have to say the other girl's name. "What's Santana up to these days?"

What followed was a distinct pout. "I don't know, she's away visiting her dad for the whole summer, she won't call me, it doesn't matter anyway," said Brittany, in one unbroken stream of thoughts that painted a very clear picture of the situation. Santana was gone, and if Brittany couldn't have the person she really wanted the most, chasing Artie was a good replacement behavior. Artie couldn't decide if he was angry with Brittany this time. It was hard to be angry with her, but it was much easier to direct that anger at Santana.

"Yeah," said Artie, smiling sympathetically at Brittany. "It doesn't matter."

"Anyway, you're here now!" squealed Brittany. Artie supposed he ought to feel good about winning Brittany back, but it wasn't quite the same if Santana had apparently forfeited. And why was he letting himself see her this way, like a prize to be won? She was more that just a prize to him, wasn't she? If he thought of Brittany as a trophy to be won, he was no better than Santana Lopez.

"I'm... going to look for the Hardy Boys," he said, just to make an excuse to get away. "They've separated the boys' and the girls' books, I think, so I'll find them over there." Sure enough, he gestured to an area that was decorated with trucks and trains instead of fairy princesses. Brittany nodded, satisfied with Artie's excuse. Truthfully, he needed a moment to process the new information, to plot his next move. Namely, he needed to decide between personal pride and the desire to have a good summer. Which mattered more?

His robotic legs provided a good distraction as he crossed the children's area alone, keenly aware of the little girl who looked up from her American Girl novel to gape at the half-robot, half-boy that hobbled along noisily. But if he had only bothered the little girl, that wouldn't have been such a big deal. Unfortunately, just a few feet away, a girl in a bonnet and a long old-fashioned dress was reading to a group of children, seated all around her in a semi-circle. There was no tiptoeing in the damn contraption. And now that he was halfway in between two destinations, it would have looked pretty stupid to just stand there. Artie continued his journey across the children's sections as a few heads turned to face the back. He was so noisy, in fact, that he distracted the reader.

And then the reader distracted _him._

Blue and black hair spilled out of the bonnet. The brown eyes that looked at him did not display the disdain he would have expected from a stranger who'd just been interrupted by a robot man. Instead, she looked elated, as this was the first time she'd seen him in his bionic form since Christmastime. But her elation quickly turned to horror.

Balance was vital in this contraption, and it was also important for Artie to keep track of his feet. So when the surface suddenly dropped out from under him, the only indication of this was gravity. Down he went, along with the crutches, the heavy backpack, and the multitude of straps and metal. Suddenly, noise was the least of his problems. His chest probably wasn't the first thing to hit the ground, but it was all he felt as all the breath got knocked out of his lungs.

"Artie!" Brittany and Tina screamed his name in unison. He groaned, his glasses askew just like the last time. Several children surrounded him as well, and Artie couldn't very well order all of them to leave. So he lay there for a minute, coughing and sputtering, trying to catch his breath first before he could trouble himself with checking on the rest of his body. Tina sent one of the kids off to get help. Brittany hovered in his peripheral vision. "What happened?"

"There was a step down," Tina answered her. He could tell by the sound of her voice when Tina was fighting tears, and this was one of those times. "I told M-Mom we needed to clearly mark that step. He's not the first person to miss it."

It was then that Artie remembered Tina's mother's job. She was the head librarian at the Lima Public Library, which explained how Tina had landed what appeared to be her summer job. But why wasn't she at Asian Camp? Last Artie had heard, she was planning on going back to Asian Camp with Mike, which was why he hadn't expected to see her around this summer. And yet, here she was, stuck in Lima just like Artie was. Just like Brittany was.

He pushed himself up on his arms, straightening his glasses. "I'll be fine," he told the pair of concerned eyes, Brittany's glassy blue ones and Tina's deep brown ones. Neither looked convinced, but both girls set to work in straightening Artie back out so that he could stand again. After their combined efforts, he was back on his feet with the crutches, apparently no worse for the wear. Brittany and Tina stared intently at him. If it were possible, he would have run away.


	3. Stuck On You

_Author's Note: Still a chapter ahead! But I need to get to work if I want to be able to post the next one._

* * *

><p>After Artie's stunningly dramatic fall, Brittany took him straight home. They didn't even stick around to get books, although Brittany told him she didn't mind because she couldn't really afford to get new books anyway. He thought it might be cruel to correct her by pointing out that you borrow books from the library for free. He was trying this thing where he didn't correct Brittany or say anything that might make her feel dumb. For the most part, it was working out, except that Artie had become uncharacteristically quiet. Brittany seemed not to notice.<p>

He asked her not to mention it to his mother. But being who she was, she found out about it anyway. Artie was at dinner with his family when his right foot unexpectedly kicked itself off of the footrest, hitting the table leg with a thud. He wore a guilty expression when his mother asked if he'd fallen in the ReWalk earlier. Although Artie had no plans of telling her, his body's plans were different.

After taking a large dose of medication to control the spasms in his lower limbs, Artie didn't have to be told to go to bed early. The medication would make him groggy fairly soon, and he didn't want to be passing out in the middle of trying to take a shower. Artie was already tucked into his bed when there was a small knock at his door. It creaked open and his mother popped her head in.

"You awake?" Her question was answered when she glimpsed Artie, propped up on his pillows and flipping through movies in his Netflix que, still wide awake. "Right, well, you have a visitor, sweetheart. Can I let her in?"

Artie nodded as he sat up a little straighter and made sure that his blankets were covering him thoroughly. Beneath the comforter, he was only wearing his boxers and didn't plan on giving his female visitor a show. Artie expected to see Brittany, possibly with a few of her stuffed animals in tow, but the door opened wider to reveal Tina. His mother gave him a small smile and disappeared into the hall, leaving his door open on her way out.

She peeked through a curtain of black and blue hair, her face tense as she approached. Artie smiled brightly at her and patted an empty space at the foot of his bed, inviting her to sit. He hadn't expected Tina, but that didn't mean he wasn't glad to see her. She cleared her throat and sat, examining his room at first, avoiding eye contact. Her eyes landed on the bottle of Baclofen sitting on Artie's bedside table.

"Yeah, you'll have to disregard anything I say right now because I'm pretty doped up," he cracked, as her eyes flickered to his face. Her tense expression changed, but it wasn't quite a smile. She abruptly covered his hand with her own as lines of worry appeared between her brows. "Hey, it's no big deal, my body just has a funny way of telling me when I need to slow the hell down, that's all."

"I don't like seeing you fall." Tina dropped her eyes to her lap again. Artie knew exactly where her mind had gone now, and he hated to be reminded of it himself because it was just another one of those times where he'd seriously blown it with Tina. And all those times had a way of adding up. Artie was pretty sure she didn't just dump him over a few crappy dates and one overly-addictive marathon of Halo.

"I don't like falling," Artie admitted. "But I have to try, don't I? Letting that expensive machine go to waste, that's not going to get me anywhere. Besides, it makes Brittany happy."

"But does it make you happy?"

Tina sensed things others missed. If they had still been together, Artie might have appreciated the fact, but now it was too much. He also didn't want it getting back to anyone that he was ungrateful. How could he not be grateful for a gift that others in his situation could only dream of receiving? The last thing he wanted to do was explain himself so it was better not to fess up about his true feelings. A swift subject change was the only thing needed to get Tina to back off.

"Why aren't you at Asian Camp?" He had her sitting on the foot of his bed, in his bedroom for the first time in nearly a year. It seemed like as good a time as any to ask questions. Tina rose to her feet, and for a split second, Artie was afraid she was going to leave. But instead of heading toward the door, she crossed the room to Artie's window. She clasped her hands in front of her body and looked out at the sky, which was growing dim as the sun set in the distance. Artie sat up even straighter, folding his arms across his chest and fixing her with a curious stare. Was it wrong of him to hope that there was trouble in Asian paradise?

"My mom wouldn't let me," were the next words out of her mouth, and she spat them out with bitter resentment. Obviously, there had been a big fight over this in Tina's household. Artie's ears perked up with interest. He said nothing, allowing her to continue. "She thinks I want to go for all the wrong reasons. Oh, and she thinks lots of teenagers get into trouble when they go off to camp, unsupervised for months at a time."

Artie couldn't help but think that Tina's mother wasn't wrong. But would he dare to vocalize his thoughts? No, no way. That would be about as intelligent as calling Karofsky a wimpy little girl. Tina paced the room, infuriated by her own recollections.

"... And I told her that it was completely unfair, that I needed the summer job and nobody in Lima was hiring. Big mistake. So what does she do? She forces me into this stupid job at the library, reading to the worst little brats you've ever met, Artie, and then spending the rest of the day shelving books and having allergy attacks because of all the dust. And all this time, I could be enjoying the beautiful sunshine at camp. With my boyfriend. This summer sucks."

"Oh." Artie thought about pretending that he was incredibly sleepy so that he might kick her out of his room. He'd spent a lot of time trying to convince himself, as well as everyone else, that he was completely fine with Asian Fusion, as it was known in the halls of McKinley High. He even helped extinguish a rumor that Mike and Tina were cousins by pointing out that Chang was just a very common Asian last name.

She collapsed on the bed, this time sinking back into the pillows beside Artie. She was fighting tears and, never able to withstand the sight of Tina crying, Artie put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm soothingly. She sniffled and tucked her head against his shoulder in a way that might have seemed romantic at the beginning of last summer. Artie had a sudden recollection of a similar moment spent with Tina in his bedroom. As a matter of fact, it was the last time she'd ever been in his room until now.

_"She's making me go to this stupid Asian camp to learn about my heritage," Tina had sighed, snuggling up to Artie more closely. "I mean, it pays a little, but not that much. Definitely not enough to make me want to give up a whole summer with you..."_

_Artie had hugged her tightly. "Don't worry, Tina, I'll still be here when you get back." He tried to think of something to cheer her up. "And Mike Chang told me he's going. So you're not going to be completely alone."_

Tina sat up and wiped her eyes as Artie snapped out of his little reverie. He produced a box of tissues from his nightstand, handing her one as she smiled in gratitude. She dabbed the corners of her eyes, looking a bit more hopeful than she had before. "But, hey, at least you're here this summer," she said, her tone brightening. "Maybe we could go swimming at my grandparents' house or... or take a trip to the lake. My uncle's got a new boat, and he's been trying to get us to come out for a ride. How does that sound?"

Both of those things sounded like activities Tina would rather enjoy with her wonderful boyfriend, Mike. But Artie supposed he would look like a real jerk if he complained about being invited on a boating trip. So, trading in a sense of self-worth for a couple days in the sun with Tina, he smiled and told her it sounded great.

It sounded rotten.


	4. On My Own

_A/N: I've completed the chapter that follows this one and I'm so excited to show you that soon. Until then, enjoy the set up._

* * *

><p>Artie was no angel. He could definitely be naughty and downright spiteful, just like any human being on the planet. Was it truly evil of him to invite Brittany along on the boating trip with Tina? Yes, yes it was, his conscience made sure he knew it. He went about it in a sneaky manner since it wasn't even his uncle or his boat. Tina and Artie had been swimming in Tina's grandparents' pool, relaxing in the sun, when she'd casually mentioned that her uncle was going to the lake that weekend. It was the perfect opportunity for them to take that trip she had been talking about.<p>

"Yeah, but I have plans to hang out with Brittany this weekend." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Brittany knew nothing about these alleged plans. Artie had just decided on the spur of the moment that he had plans to _make plans_ with Brittany. A funny, unreadable expression crossed Tina's face. It kind of looked like the face she made when she'd confronted him in the hallway at school with suspicions about Brittany and Mike.

"Well, let's... bring her along then," said Tina, who looked like she regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. But Artie was already nodding and agreeing to the idea and, for a moment, Tina looked quite flustered. Then, recovering some semblance of poise, she went on to say, "Anyone else you know of who would want to come?"

He immediately thought of Sam, who surely needed a break from that cramped motel room full of people and also had the weekend off from his job at the grocery store. When Artie called him later to invite him on the trip, he was overjoyed at the prospect of accompanying Tina, Artie, and Brittany to the lake.

Now, Artie was busy packing for the trip, as Tina's parents would be coming by soon to pick him up. He was in the middle of choosing a swimsuit when his mother knocked at the door. Without waiting for Artie to respond, she barged on in. He was really going to have to talk to her about that. Now that Artie was getting older, her sudden intrusions could have awkward and unexpected consequences.

"You're all going to be wearing life vests on the boat, right?" He nodded, although he sure she'd asked him that before. Nevertheless, he answered it the same way he had the first time. Naturally, Tina's uncle knew about safety and would have everyone riding in the boat wearing a life jacket. And, to be sure, Artie had called Tina, who called her uncle and confirmed.

"Just making sure," said his mother, who adjusted his comforter and fixed the pillows, evidently staying for another purpose. As Artie silently selected the blue swim trunks and shoved them into the duffel bag sitting atop his dresser, Charlotte dropped the pillow sham and moved in front of his chair. "So, I have really good news for you."

"Oh, yeah?" Artie asked, opening his underwear drawer and pulling out a few pairs of briefs.

"Yeah," said Charlotte, sitting down on the bed and grinning at her son. "I just got off the phone with Isaac's mother. She called to tell me that she and her boyfriend had to cancel their trip to Europe. They're going to be in Columbus for the rest of the month, sweetheart, and Isaac doesn't live at home anymore..."

Artie dropped a pair of underwear that was intended for his duffle. He gaped at his mother, who clasped a hand over her mouth and nodded as tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. She rose at once from the bed and crossed the room to embrace her son. He pulled her in closely, overjoyed at the news. "I really get to do learn this summer?"

"You really get learn this summer," she nodded, drawing back with her hands on his shoulders, arms extended, as she looked at him. "Oh, honey, you've been waiting for a long time, and it killed me to think of us putting this off for another summer. Just think of how independent you'll be once you can drive a car. Teresa was so wonderful to open up Isaac's room for you. As much as I hate that her trip fell through, I'm so glad you're getting this chance, Artie. I only wish that it didn't mean having to be away from my son all summer long."

"Mom, Columbus is just a couple of hours away," Artie pointed out, unable to stop grinning. "You can visit me. When do I leave?"

"Well, I suppose we'll have to get you packed when you get home from your lake trip," Charlotte reasoned, suddenly stressed over the amount of preparation it was going to involve getting Artie ready for such a long time spent away from home. "You'll need to be there by Sunday evening to start class first thing Monday morning."

It helped that Teresa Morales could provide the ideal living environment for a kid in a wheelchair. She had already done so for many, many years, as a single mother raising her son, Isaac, a paraplegic teen. He had met Artie through the assistance of the elementary school counselor. She arranged for Isaac, who was sixteen when Artie had been nine, to become an ongoing penpal. To Artie's great suprise, the teenager always wrote back quickly, even though Artie was so many years younger. Many times a year, they'd gone on trips to see Isaac and his mother. With Isaac now living on his own, his abandoned but still accessible bedroom was the perfect lodging for Artie while he completed the special occupational therapy program designed to teach adaptive driving for the disabled. No such thing existing in the tiny town of Lima. Columbus wasn't terribly far away, but the distance was too far for a daily commute.

"I should call Ike and tell him I'll be invading his old room." Artie grew more and more enthusiastic by the minute. He abandoned the task of packing for the lake to retrieve his cell phone, which was plugged in and charging beside his computer. His mother stepped between Artie and the desk, however, and turned her son around by his handles.

"Later," she urged him, chuckling at her son's one-track mind. "Your friends are going to be here any minute and you haven't got that duffle bag packed. Remember? Your friends? The ones you won't see for several more weeks after tonight?" She picked up the fallen briefs and shoved them in his bag. "And don't forget to reapply sunblock, especially on your legs and your feet. You won't feel them burning, and by the time they look pink, it's too late."

Really, what would Artie do without his mother?

Five hours later, they were all on a boat with Sam and Artie rapping "On a Boat," both boys having learned the entire thing years ago. It was uncommon for Artie to come across someone as geeky as himself, but Sam was part of that rare breed. Brittany and Tina stretched out in their bikinis, soaking in the rays and probably not wearing enough sunblock, which wouldn't have met Mrs. Abrams' approval. Tina checked out Brittany's washboard stomach a few times before casting her eyes back at her own. Artie had seen his sister do this enough times to know that girls compared bodies just as much as guys did. And seeing as Sam's washboard abs would rival those of Mike Chang, well, Artie just chose to keep his t-shirt on the entire time. Both Sam and Brittany tried out waterskiis. Tina stuck to tubing, but couldn't hang on for very long. And Artie just lounged on the boat the entire time. Tubing was entirely possible, provided the driver went slow, but it wasn't much fun.

And then he broke the news, maybe a bit too casually in hindsight. "So, I get to go away all summer," he'd said, sunglasses in place as he applied a bit more sunblock to his tingling cheeks. He looked at Sam then, announcing, "I'm going to stay at a friend's house in Columbus while I learn to drive."

"Cool!" exclaimed Sam, reaching out to exchange a high-five with Artie.

Brittany frowned, however, and Tina looked equally disappointed. "Not cool," Brittany complained. "Columbus, that's like, two hours away. First Santana, now you. I can't believe I'm stuck here with nobody."

"Friends call me Sam," Sam quipped. "And I'll be here all summer." He looked helpfully at Tina, who didn't break eye contact with Artie. Artie removed the sunglasses, puzzled over what appeared to be anger. It made him sort of angry.

Really, what right did she have to be mad at him? In fact, what right did she have to throw herself at Artie while Mike was away all summer?

"Well, you do need to learn to drive," she said, relaxing a little. What Artie had interpreted as anger might have just been frustration, afterall. "I'm really happy for you, Artie. You deserve this chance. But whatever you do, you just have to promise to take all of us for a drive when you get your first car. We get to be your first passengers."

Brittany looked confused. "But I thought you couldn't move your feet...?"

Artie began explaining adapted driving and hand controls, and by the time he'd finished to explaining all of the different factors related to driving for the disabled, they were all pretty excited for him. Gone would be the days when Artie had to bum a ride off his friends or wait until his father got home to take him somewhere. This summer marked a new phase of his life, and he was going to make it happen, all on his own.


	5. The Devil Went Down to Georgia

_A/N: Apologies if this feels like filler, but in this installment, you get to find out who I might potentially list as the second main character of this story, besides Artie. I'm still not entirely sure if I should put this character's name down. It might draw in a few new readers, but it's a bit spoilerish. ^_^ What do you guys think? The next chapter is so much better than this one._

* * *

><p>"Isaac's room has changed a little, in terms of decor, but I kept it and the bathroom accessible for when he comes to visit," Teresa explained, glancing over her shoulder to address Artie as he followed her down the hallway. She'd always told Artie to call her Teresa, even when he was little, but it didn't seem all that strange because Teresa didn't really remind him of a mother. A California native, she was incredibly laid back.<p>

"In the meantime, you could open a bed and breakfast for people in wheelchairs," Artie quipped, producing a chuckle from Teresa. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed down at him, and Artie got the distinct impression that Teresa was reminded of her son when she looked at him. He hadn't exactly made that suggestion jokingly. Despite being a single mother of a child, Teresa easily afforded a nice home in an upper class neighborhood. Although Artie called her Teresa, to many, she was known as Dr. Morales. And the doctor was getting along just fine without her Isaac's deadbeat father who disappeared long before Artie ever knew Isaac.

"You just make yourself at home," she told Artie, as they entered the bedroom, which was added onto the home shortly after Isaac's accident. The walls, which Isaac had once covered with an eclectic variety of band posters, were now painted a neutral tan and accented with brown and white furnishings. It still vaguely resembled Isaac's room because of his many pictures and mementos still scattered all about the room, but the decor was like something out of a magazine.

"And don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything or if you've forgotten something," Teresa went on. "There's always Walmart so you don't need to do without. And I know you're probably used better cooking because your mother's such a great homemaker, but sadly, we do a lot of take-out around here."

"Mom and Dad sent me with plenty of cash," Artie started to say, but Teresa waved it off. "Well, anyway, it's okay. Besides, I love take-out. Especially Chinese." Artie knew many things about Isaac, thanks to many years of letters and emails, and remembered that Chinese food was a favorite of both Isaac and his mom. Sure enough, Teresa looked delighted.

"Ike says he'll visit sometime while you're staying here," said Teresa, fondly. "Provided you wouldn't mind sharing the room a night or two." At this, Artie shook his head, grinning.

"Nah, I'd love to catch up with him," said Artie. "But he told me that he's got himself a serious girlfriend so I'd understand if he were busy."

"Yes, well, I've told him Jessa can room with Miguel's daughter if he absolutely can't spend a night alone." Artie didn't miss the way Teresa rolled her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't like Isaac's girlfriend, Jessa. On the contrary, Artie knew Teresa adored her. But as a single mother, she was still a bit possessive of her only child.

"Miguel's daughter... lives here?" Artie knew that Teresa's boyfriend had recently moved in with her. They'd worked together at the hospital for many years, but their relationship was still fairly new. Teresa hadn't wanted to leave her home so Miguel now rented out _his _property and lived with his girlfriend. Artie knew all about the situation, thanks to Ike's emails. But this was the first he had ever heard about a daughter. "Oh... well... that's cool. I like kids."

"Oh, um, she's your age." Teresa gave Artie a sheepish smile to accompany the confession. "And she's just staying here, visiting her father for the summer. But she's in the guestroom upstairs. I figured, what with Ike's room being way down here, it wouldn't be an issue. Even so... maybe we... won't mention it to your mom? It's just, I know how conservative she can be. But, well, you need to learn to drive and you need a place to stay. So we have to make that happen, right?"

"Yeah, she wouldn't care," Artie lied. As Teresa fixed him with a dubious look, he added, "But, uh, we don't really need to mention it." Just withholding information wasn't the same as lying. And, with that in mind, Artie justified keeping their little secret.

Teresa shifted her weight and cleared her throat. "Right, well," she trailed off, scanning the room one last time before fixing her eyes on Artie. "Like I said, make yourself comfortable and don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything, anything at all. Tonight is an exception to the take-out rule since you're here and since I took the day off. Dinner should be ready in about an hour."

Artie thanked Teresa and, once he was alone, began the tedious task of unpacking. Isaac's closet was full of shelves that could be pulled in and out. They were all positioned down low so that someone in a wheelchair could easily store and access their stuff. The bars for hanging his clothes were also lower, allowing him to easily reach and hang things. Yep, it was pretty much the ideal home for a wheelchair accessible bed and breakfast.

He was hanging up the last shirt, noting that it would still need to be pressed before he wore it, when his cell phone rang. He retrieved the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen to identify the caller. With a slight smirk, he picked up. "Hey, Tina."

"Guess who else went to Asian camp."

That was her greeting? No _hello_, no _how are you doing_, just that? "Hi, Tina, I'm doing great, thanks for asking."

_"Sunshine Corazon."_

"The Sunshine Corazon from Vocal Adrenaline?"

Tina exhaled loudly, and Artie could imagine her rolling her eyes. "No, Artie, the other one," she said. "Yes, Sunshine Corazon from Vocal Adrenaline. She's been at Asian Camp with Mike for two weeks and he _just _decided to mention her."

"Well..." Artie turned his chair, pulling back on one wheel. Tucking his phone under his chin, he wheeled his way over to the bed. "Maybe he... just noticed her. Maybe he just thought she was one of the campers until now."

That got Tina to laugh. "Maybe." But the laughter died on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a strange silence. "Do you think she's pretty?"

"Who, Sunshine?" Artie replied, stalling slightly as he came up with the right answer to this question. The honest answer was that, yes, he'd noticed Sunshine was fairly pretty. So sue him, he had a thing for non-white girls, especially Asians. (It didn't explain Brittany, but whatever. Not much _did _explain Britt.) The answer Tina wanted to hear, however, was the right answer. "No, not really. She looks twelve. That's creepy."

"That _is _creepy." Tina sounded relieved. "So, how are you doing, Artie? You just got there, right? Getting settled in?" With the question of Sunshine Corazon settled, it seemed Tina could focus on other topics now.

Artie moved to Isaac's bed and stretched out while he talked to Tina. After about twenty minutes, they said their good-byes and Artie closed his eyes. He had been up late the night before packing quickly, rushed because of the trip to the lake. He'd nearly drifted off to sleep when his phone rang again.

"Hi, Artie!" said Brittany, happily, when he'd picked up. "You haven't even been gone a whole day, and I miss you already. I just wanted to tell you that."

Artie had to smile. "Thanks, Britt."

"I'm getting Sam to come on Fondue For Two," she reported, proudly. Artie had been surprised and a little bit impressed when he found out that Brittany had her own show on YouTube. He didn't think his favorite former Cheerio knew much about computers or the internet, but when it came to collecting subscribers on YouTube, she was a professional. It was similar to the strange and unexplained expertise she'd displayed at Brainiacs when the category had been cat diseases.

"Good choice," Artie affirmed. "What is he going to talk about?"

"Something to do with Avatar and Na'vi, I think," said Brittany, cheerfully. "I told him I would make blue fondue for the occasion. But I'm going to start promoting _your _appearance soon. You're going to show all of my viewers how you learned to drive with no feet. We can do a Fondue for Two Road Rules Edition."

"Creative!" Artie was genuinely impressed. "You have really good ideas, Brittany. Really _smart _ideas." The more times he could assure her that he didn't think she was a total airhead, the better. Besides, could a total airhead come up with such a unique YouTube show? Artie didn't think so.

"Yeah..." It was the same _yeah_ she'd given him after the prom proposal and his apology, in that tone that meant she still didn't quite believe him yet. Then: "Lord Tubbington, _no!_

"What's wrong?" asked Artie.

She exhaled loudly into the phone. "I gotta go, Artie, Lord Tubbington found one of my old pom-poms and ripped it to shreds. I think he's mad at me because I put him back on the Atkins diet."

It was almost time for dinner anyway. Artie exchanged good-byes with Brittany, hanging up his cell phone and then plugging it into the wall to charge the battery. So much for that nap he thought he needed. But it just meant he would be able to get into bed and crash early. He had to get a lot of sleep to ensure he had plenty of energy for tomorrow, his first day of driver's education.

Artie moved back into his chair and stopped by Isaac's old bathroom to take care of business and freshen up before dinner. He knew they were sharing their meal with Miguel and the mysterious daughter, the one who was Artie's age. Artie snooped around in the drawers and found some of Isaac's old cologne, aftershave, and deodorant. He wet his hair and combed it down with his fingers. Satisfied with his look, he wheeled down the hall and through the living room to find Teresa setting the table with her boyfriend, Miguel.

"We're almost ready to eat," said Teresa, coming around the table towards Artie. She stopped behind his chair, putting her hands on his shoulders as Miguel looked up from arranging the silverware beside the plate. He approached Artie, his hand extended. "Honey, This is Isaac's friend that I was telling you about. Miguel, Artie. Artie, Miguel."

On the other side of the counter, someone nearly choked. The refrigerator door closed to reveal a sneering face with dark hair, dark eyes, and breasts that resembled ostrich eggs.

"And this is Miguel's daughter," Teresa continued, oblivious to the fact that Miguel's daughter was staring down at Artie with a look of utmost disgust. "This is Santana."


	6. Secret

_A/N: I need to give credit where credit is due. A large portion of this chapter comes from scenes roleplayed between myself (playing Artie) and my friend, Queenie (playing Santana). The setting has been changed and Santana's inner monologue had to be omitted because this is from Artie's point of view, but much of the dialogue is the same. I could not have written Santana as beautifully as she did! Speaking of Santana, she's now my official second main character. We'll see if this draws in new readers! ^^_

* * *

><p>After dinner, Artie started to escape to Isaac's room, but something stopped him. Or rather, someone stopped him. She pulled back on the handles of his chair, turning him so sharply that he scraped his hand against the side of the wall. <em>"Ouch!"<em>he protested.

"These people aren't your family," she snarled. "So, what the hell are you doing here?"

"You heard Teresa at dinner," said Artie, caressing the throbbing fingers on his right hand. "Isaac's room is available so I'm staying here while I learn to drive. C'mon, you avoid me all the time in glee club. It won't be hard for you to avoid me here, too."

"You are the _reason _I'm not going to Paris this summer!" she exploded, although still keeping her voice low as to avoid letting Miguel and Teresa hear her.

"What?" Artie could feel his face growing warm. "I thought that was just a lucky coincidence..." Scowling at him, Santana shook her head. "Well, I heard they plan to go next summer instead. Teresa said something about waiting to go when they get married."

_"If_ they get married," Santana corrected. Artie opened his mouth with a question on the tip of his tongue, but thinking better of it, he closed it without speaking. "Awesome, just when I thought this summer couldn't suck any more than it already does, I get stuck with _you._"

Normally, he might just stew in silence rather than attempting to go to war with Santana. She was privy to some rather embarrassing information about his personal business that he'd rather she not be provoked into sharing with the world. But they weren't at school and wouldn't be for a long time. He figured he was safe to just speak his mind. So he did.

"A lot of cool people think I'm cool," he informed her. "Puck. Finn. Quinn. Brittany." _So what's your problem?_He didn't have to say it aloud; his expression said plenty.

"Right. And you should be judging how cool you actually are by them. Puck's dating the Goodyear blimp and has completely lost all of the sway he used to have. Finn's, well, I don't think I even need to mention anything there. It's pretty obvious. And Quinn's working all summer for chump change cleaning people's tables." She easily shot the first three down, but could find nothing to say against Brittany. "Why the hell do you even care?" Santana snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"About what?" Artie asked, narrowing his eyes. "About being cool? Maybe you haven't noticed my khakis and saddle shoes? I don't care."

It was a thinly-veiled lie and Artie knew it. And besides, today, he wasn't wearing khakis or saddle shoes. He'd brought along some t-shirts and athletic shorts, nothing spectacularly in fashion, but they were certainly different than the polo shirts and loose-fitting slacks that his mother purchased for him.

"You lie as well as you walk," she shot back. "You care about being cool more than anyone. But it's any consolation, you look a lot better now than you usually do at school." Evidently realizing how closely that resembled a compliment, Santana drew herself up to her full height and avoided eye contact.

Artie surveyed his clothing, speechless for a moment. He muttered out a terse little "um, yeah, thanks" and chewed his lower lip anxiously. Humphrey Bogart had said it best. _Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine._

"So considering the fact that Columbus is hella boring and we're both going to be stuck here for awhile, how do you feel about a truce? _Just _while we're here." She shrugged, "We can have a few drinks tonight to solidify the no blood shed agreement. I know where Teresa keeps the booze."

"Are you crazy?" There was no telling what she was up to. Maybe she was just bored. But crazy or bored, the idea of hanging around with a less hostile version of Santana _did _appeal to Artie... a little.

"No, I'm practical," she said, shrugging again. "I also _like _Teresa. She's the first woman my father ever dated that has, like, an actual brain. I don't want to piss her off."

"I have a couple of conditions," he said, coolly. "And I think you should really reconsider breaking into Teresa's liquor cabinet if you want to keep her happy."

Santana held up her hands in surrender, as if to say _fair enough. _She then put her hands on her hips and looked at Artie expectantly. "Conditions? To make peace with you? I'm dying to hear these."

"Condition number one," he began, solemnly. "That you stop acting like it's humiliating to be seen with me. You know what I'm talking about. It is a wheelchair, not a fungus. It isn't quite the stigma you make it out to be. Number two..." Artie didn't give her a moment's hesitation to interject any corrections. He barged right ahead, speaking quickly and firmly. "... that when you get back to Lima, you destroy the medical information you were blackmailing me with."

She knew exactly what he was talking about.

_"I think Christmas came early this year," Santana commented, leaning on the locker beside Artie's, a folded up paper tucked under her crossed arms. But it was nowhere near Christmas. Nationals were a week away._

_Artie shut his locker. "Yeah?" He unlocked the break on his chair, in preparation to hopefully get the hell away from her soon. She made him nervous. "Why, what did Santa bring you? Sleigh rides with your Lebanese lover?"_

_"Oh no, something much better." There was a devious little smirk on her face. "You know, I really kind of want to stretch this out, let the moment last a little longer because once I tell you... oh, well. Waiting isn't my style." Taking the paper and dropping it on his lap, Santana continued to grin triumphantly. She moved behind his chair and leaned over so she could look at the paper over his shoulder. "I wonder what this could be. Do you know, Artie? It has your name on it. I found it just sitting on Mr. Schue's desk."_

_Artie only had to glance at the paper to realize what she'd found. Immediately, his stomach turned and, for a moment, he thought he was going to hurl his lunch all over his lap. He instinctively crumpled the paper in his lap and clenched it tightly in his fist, his chest heaving in and out as he looked at Santana with the utmost disgust and hatred. He hadn't even hated her this much when she'd tricked Brittany into cheating on him with her. No, this was worse, and he hadn't thought it possible._

_"How could you...?" He couldn't finish that sentence. All he knew was, it was a definite law suit waiting to happen. The school had breeched confidentiality big time! He'd given Mr. Schuester a copy of some medical paperwork because there were some things he'd need to know before Artie went on the trip to New York. Artie could hardly believe that his teacher had been so careless._

_"I like to think it's a little thing called fate," she said. "I'm sure you've heard of it. It's that big bitch that tells you that you're going to stop making such an embarrassment out of yourself, quit serenading my best friend, and stop calling me Lebanese. You really thought that you could keep up with me? Artie, I've been top dog in this school ever since Quinn got herself knocked up, and you are damn sure going to learn that you don't get to cross me and get away with it."_

_His breathing had become shallow. He was paralyzed with fear, moreso than anything else. His hand clutched that crumpled paper so tightly that he felt as though he were crushing it into a fine powder. He had no choice but to beg._

_"Please, Santana..." he pleaded, hoarsely. "I'll do whatever you want, okay? I'll stop hinting about your sexuality. I'll... I'll quit flirting with Brittany. I mean, I can't flat out ignore her, it'll hurt her feelings. But I'll back off. You just can't tell people that stuff. I've been working for nine years to hide it... please..."_

_And, quite unexpectedly, she had softened just a bit. Rather than a snappy comeback, all she had was a question. "Nine years?"_

_Artie blinked in confusion. He had no clue what he was doing, pleading with someone like Santana instead of trying to fight back, but there was really no way he could get the upper hand this time._

_"I had one of those leg bags for the first year or so, and ever since then, I've used a catheter that I just take into the bathroom stall with me," he explained swallowing hard as he relaxed his fist that clutched the wad of paper ever so slightly. "But traveling is complicated so I have to use the bag again on the plane..." He trailed off, waiting for her to burst out laughing._

_She was oddly still for a moment, but then she waved her hand dismissively. "Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. All I'm hearing is that you are clearly willing to go to whatever lengths you need to, to make sure that this little bit of dirty information never gets out. Funny how's life's a bitch that way, isn't it?"_

_Artie stared incredulously for a few seconds before he could find his voice to answer her. He knew she could be harsh, but _whoa. _He was so angry that he literally couldn't speak._

_"So, let me get this straight," he said, staring at her cold expression in disbelief. "You're going to use my most private secret to manipulate me?" He glanced down at the paper in his hand, however, and suddenly felt smug. "How? You can say what you want, but it's really just your word against mine." He held up the crumpled paper, a tiny moment of triumph._

_"Please, like that's the only copy I have," she said, with a laugh. "Artie, I'm not exactly a newbie here. The whole school will know about you when the halls are plastered with flyers. You stay away from Brittany or I will end you. You know I can and will do it. I get what I want. Be smart. You don't want the whole school to know about your little secret." With a pleased smile, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away._

"Well then I guess you really only have _one _condition," said Santana of the present. She sighed and avoided eye contact once again. "Because I already got rid of it. So, yeah. Don't have to worry about that."

Artie's jaw dropped in astonishment at this confession. He could tell that she wasn't lying about that, but what he didn't understand was what would possess her to get rid of it on her own? She didn't hang around long for him to find out. Muttering something that sounded like "goodnight," she hurried away.


	7. Heartless

_A/N: I didn't have help with writing the Santana of this chapter so she's probably not written as well as the last chapter. I bet you can guess who Artie's going to turn to for advice in the chapter after this one. Enjoy! (Oh, and I'm on tumblr now! Same username. I had to get it for the upcoming Artina Fic-a-Thon 2011!)_

* * *

><p>Artie fully expected Santana to avoid him completely, but avoidance evidently wasn't in the cards.<p>

Artie was headed back to Teresa's after his first day of driving school, positively ecstatic over what he'd learned. Not only was he now learning how to drive, he was already learning to be more self-sufficient, in terms of transportation. Here in Columbus, he took the Handitran to get from place to place. Teresa's work schedule as an ER doctor was as unpredictable as it was hectic so he couldn't count on her for rides. It explained why Isaac had always been so independent. Artie recalled admiring that quality in his paraplegic role model.

He'd been waiting on his ride when he received Santana's text. He wasn't even aware she had his number, and as he didn't have her listed among his contacts, her name did not accompany her message. It was still easy to identify the message as having come from Santana: **In the pool. U can join me if U bring me a pop.**

Artie had no idea what Santana was doing all day because she didn't seem to have any plans for the summer, other than staying with her wealthy father and lounging around all day by the pool. Miguel, like Teresa, had a full work schedule and probably had little time available to spend with Santana. It wasn't hard to conclude that Santana was probably lonely.

_She suggested the truce,_ he reminded himself, as he rode alone in the back of the Handitran. _She invited me to swim with her,_ he assured himself, as he let himself into the front door with his key and rolled through the empty house. _The truce means she's probably not going to drown me,_ he decided, as he changed into his swim trunks and a tank top. _She's probably just too lazy to get her own damn Coke,_he finally concluded, as he fetched the soda and took it outside.

It was much too hot to do anything _but_ go swimming, and Artie was glad Santana had thought of it because swimming was quite honestly his favorite thing in the world to do. It was the least restrictive activity, by _far_the only satisfying thing about physical therapy, and he looked almost normal in the pool.

Santana lounged on a chair, slathered in tanning oil and looking sticky. Her red string bikini was skimpier than most underwear, but Artie had to notice the fact that she could have been a model with that body. But he'd liked her boobs better before. They were big in a distracting way now. Had she really gotten breast implants last summer?

Santana tilted her shades, raising her head a little. "Perv, much?"

Artie dropped his eyes to his lap quickly, holding out her Coke while looking away. It produced a snicker from Santana, who accepted the drink without so much as a thank you. She took a long swig, replacing the shades over her eyes, and then set it aside. She reclined back again, appearing to have no further intention of acknowledging Artie. _So she really did just want someone to bring her a pop, _he thought, chiding himself for having thought she actually wanted his company.

It was just as much his right to go for a swim as it was hers. Artie wheeled himself near the edge of the pool and worked his feet into the water shoes he'd been carrying in his lap. Water shoes were important in the pool because they kept him from scraping his toes against the bottom of the pool. Artie wheeled a little closer to the edge and set the break in preparation to launch himself on out. He yanked off his tank top, tossing it aside. As he did so, a low wolf whistle nearly knocked him right out of his seat.

Santana hovered behind his chair now. Artie hadn't even heard her get up. As she whistled, she lifted her sunglasses off her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face with them. She looked past Artie and over the fence, her eyes on a tanned and muscular guy who was preoccupied with the task of pushing a lawn mower. When she looked down, she caught Artie staring at her for a second time.

"Oh, what?" A laugh caught in her throat. "You thought I was whistling at you?"

Artie's cheeks burned as he looked down at his stomach, which was mostly flat with one small, offending roll of flab near the waist of his swim trunks. The guy pushing the mower had abs to rival Sam or Mike. Artie was about to launch himself into the water when he felt her hand on his lower back. She was tracing the thick knotted lines that criss-crossed from his right side to the center. She then ran a finger straight down the most pronounced scar as Artie gave a slight shiver. "Stop it."

"_You_are entirely too uptight," she said, sitting beside his chair on the edge of the pool and dipping her feet in. "Those are some interesting scars. Isaac just has the one scar from his surgery. It seems the bullet itself didn't really leave much of a mark after they finished slicing his back open."

He stared down at Santana, stunned by what she had just shared. "How do you know so much about Isaac?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "I thought your dad and Teresa just started dating."

"They did," she said, shrugging and looking away. "But we knew the Morales family for years, and Ike's like a big brother to me. I knew him before he was paralyzed. That's why I've never had much respect for you. He handles it just fine, but you? Not so much."

His insides did a twist as she spoke. Rage burned deep within his body. What _right_ did she have? What _right? _Artie did the only thing he could do. Ignoring the fact that she'd even spoken, he pushed off the edge of his chair and flopped into the water. The cool splash of liquid hitting him in the face was like the water poured onto a fire. His anger managed, he pulled furiously with his arms. He'd made several laps around the pool before he had to stop to catch his breath. Santana was stoic, still remaining perched on the side of the pool.

"What makes you think..." Artie panted a little, paddling over to the steps and settling himself on the surface. "What makes you think you know a damn thing about how well I'm _handling _being this way?"

She looked as though she'd been waiting for the question. Leaning towards him, she tilted her head to the side as her dark hair spilled over one shoulder. "You give up too easily," she said, as if it were incredibly obvious.

Artie furrowed his brow. "What have I given up on?"

Santana exhaled impaitently. "I watched you right after last summer. I wanted to see what you were going to do after Mike Chang stole your girlfriend away when you weren't looking. I watched you come up with this laughable little scheme of getting on the football team to get her attention when what you should've been doing was paying more attention to Tina than he was. Not that hard, really, considering he's mostly just in love with his own abs. And, I mean, who wouldn't be?"

"You watched me?" Artie echoed, shuddering. "That's decidedly creepy."

"Then Brit gets a little pissed off at me because I won't sing a Melissa Ethridge song with her for our duet," Santana continued, and Artie was sure he didn't want to hear it. But she wasn't giving him much of a choice. "So, she gets back at me by having sex with you and the next thing I hear is that she's in love with you. You latch onto that and follow her around like a lost puppy, even after she's dumped your sorry ass for hurting her feelings."

"Is there a point to all this?" Artie wanted to know, reaching for his towel. She stuck out a hand and stopped him from grabbing it off the pavement. He stared intently at her, but she stared back until she had stared him down.

"You do nothing but reciprocate whatever affection some girl wants to throw your way," she argued. "Tina deserved better. Brittany deserved better. So if you want either of them back, you need to take charge. Steal Tina away from Mike while he's not looking. Hell, I don't know, steal Brittany away from me. Just stop letting other people take what's yours all the time. You look like a puppy that someone kicked every time it happens and it's to the point where it's obnoxiously repetitive. I feel like I'm watching reruns of some shitty teen drama."

"Steal Brittany away from you?" Artie repeated. "Wait, hold up. Brittany's been complaining about you to me, in case you didn't know. Forget about me for a minute. Let's talk about _you. _If you were so keen to break up me and Brittany, why didn't you try to stay with her this summer? I bet Teresa would have let her stay here all summer, too, if you'd asked."

Santana rolled her eyes to the sky. She was silent for a long time, and Artie could hardly believed he'd just silenced the devil in a red suit. "I'm not," Santana began, appearing to struggle with herself. "I'm not _Lebanese_, or whatever the hell Brittany put on that fucking shirt. I told some people I was but that was only to..." She snapped out of it before saying more than she meant to tell him. "I've been out in the sun for too long. I'm going inside."

That was the second time Santana Lopez stormed off in a way that would have made Rachel Berry proud. Confused and a little dizzy, Artie pondered what he'd just learned. So, Santana Lopez wasn't a lesbian? Except she wanted people to think that she was. _Why would you want people to think you were gay?_ Ms. Pillsbury didn't even have pamphlets in her office to address that topic. This was a question for someone far more learned in matters of teen sexuality.


	8. Hey Soul Sister

_A/N: IDEK with the title, haha. I got to show this story to the person Queenie, the person who contributed much to my first Santana and Artie chapter. There's more good stuff from Queenie to come, but I wrote this one all myself. And writing by yourself is hard work._

* * *

><p>Artie turned his phone over and over in his hands. The Handitran wasn't going to be arriving to pick him up from driving school for another ten minutes at least. It was certainly enough time to call Kurt Hummel with the question he'd been thinking about for the past four days. At last, he chickened out of calling with the question and settled on sending it in text message form: <strong>Have you ever known anyone who pretended to be gay?<strong>

He was startled when his ring tone, a spirited version of "Proud Mary," following almost as soon as he'd hit send. When he picked up, Kurt immediately started in with an answer to his question. "Hi, Artie," he said, serenely. "No, I haven't personally known anyone who pretended to be gay, but that doesn't mean it's unheard of. Why do you ask?"

_Shit,_ Artie thought. He had invented a way to ask about Santana without revealing her identity _and_without flat out lying, but if Kurt pressed him for details, he didn't know if he could hide Santana's identity under pressure. "There's this girl here in Columbus with me who's pretending to be gay, I'm pretty sure."

"You sure that's not just wishful thinking?" The condescending, know-it-all tone in Kurt's voice got under Artie's skin.

"Believe me, if you knew her, you wouldn't ask me that." Except, Artie reminded himself, Kurt _did_know her. So much for keeping himself from lying. It would have been much easier to discuss this with Kurt via text messaging. "Why do you think a girl would pretend to be gay?"

"You've called the right person," said Kurt, sounding smug. "I myself believe that a girl would be more likely to lie about it than a guy. The most common reason being that she doesn't like or trust men because the fact of the matter is that guys can be insensitive jerks. Perhaps she's been burned one too many times in the past. She could have even been abused. A girl like that might find more security in, say, her best girlfriend."

"Makes sense," Artie reasoned. "You could say the same thing about a guy."

"Sometimes but not as often," replied the Expert. "And think about the hell I've been through at this school because of who I am. It's not likely that I'm going to pretend to be gay if I'm really not. Although from what I understand, there are guys who will claim to be gay just to get women. It makes sense. I have sleepovers with the girls in glee club all the time. If Puckerman knew about it, I bet he would dye his mohawk to look like a rainbow. What horny, straight guy wouldn't enjoy that?"

"You have sleepovers with them?"

"Focus, Artie," Kurt continued. "Back to this girl, who I assume is not some girl you met in Columbus. We're talking about Brittany, aren't we?"

Artie hadn't counted on Kurt jumping to that conclusion. "When you say sleepover, does that mean you stay all night in the same room with them? And they wear lingerie?"

Kurt exhaled loudly. "Artie, you have the attention span of a chihuahua. You're also changing the subject. You have to come to grips with the fact that Brittany _just might be gay._And if that's the case, I'd advise you to move on. There are a gaggle of girls at Crawford County Day School who probably want me dead, but my sudden demise doesn't mean that any of them will wind up with my Blaine."

"Thanks, Kurt," said Artie, dryly, resigning himself to the fact that Kurt was going to be convinced he was talking about Brittany, no matter what he said from this point onward. "This has been enlightening. Really."

"Always willing to be of help," replied Kurt, cheerfully. "Lord knows all of you boys need it." There was a short pause, and it sounded as though it pained Kurt to speak the next words that left his lips. "She could also be... bisexual, I guess. I'm not entirely convinced that's a real thing. I think it simply means you're undecided for the time being. And that's not exactly something I can relate to so I can't claim to be an expert in that department. But good luck, Artie. Oh, and I heard you're in Columbus 'cause you're learning to drive. That's really awesome. Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Artie, again, sighing because the conversation hadn't been as helpful as he'd hoped. After he and Kurt said their goodbyes, Artie scanned the road for the Handitran, but didn't see it anywhere. What he did see, however, was an enormous Hummer pulling into the lot. He gaped for a moment, squinting to get a better look at the driver. When the driver's face was visible, Artie's face broke out into a huge grin.

The driver came to a stop in front of him and rolled down the window. "I called Mom and she cancelled your ride so that's why they're not here," Isaac replied, brightly. "Tried to get here in time to see you turning doughnuts in the parking lot with your driving instructor, but traffic's a bitch. Well, you'll find out soon enough. Need a ride?"

"Hell, yeah, man!" It was just like Isaac to surprise him and not announce which weekend he would be visiting. Artie wheeled himself around to the passenger side of the vehicle and admired the silver body of the car, gleaming in the sunlight and spotlessly clean. Isaac leaned over to open the passenger door and chuckled over the sight of Artie trying to work out a way into the vehicle.

"I know, transfers would have been simpler if I'd just gotten a car," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He then solved the problem by leaning as far to his right as he possibly could, extending a hand for Artie to grasp. "But it wouldn't have been nearly as bad ass."

With a laugh, Artie pulled his feet out of the rests and stuck them in the floorboard of the giant vehicle, one at a time. He grabbed Isaac's hand and allowed the other guy to pull him while he pushed against his arm rest with the other hand. Once he was comfortably seated, Artie leaned over to disassemble his wheelchair, taking off the wheels and folding up the seat before sticking it in the back to join Isaac's chair. Isaac surveyed the sight of the two dismantled wheelchairs filling up his backseat and laughed again, Artie joining in this time.

"Our chairs are spooning."

_"Sick."_

"So, Mom didn't tell you I was coming?" Isaac asked, putting the car in drive again. Artie watched Isaac's hands do the work of a regular person's feet as he used his left one to pull up on the control that worked the gas and then pushing to break. He used his right hand to steer, although his left wasn't far from the wheel.

"She managed not to mention it," Artie confirmed.

"Way to go, Mom," said Isaac, replacing the sunglasses over his dark brown eyes. Isaac's hair was a lot longer than the last time Artie had seen him. Thanks to his Hispanic heritage, he was perfectly tanned. From the waist up, he looked like an athlete, muscular and handsome. From the waist down, his legs were thin like Artie's, having been out of commission for the past ten years of his life.

"She also didn't tell me about Santana," Artie blurted out. "And neither did you."

"Oh, yeah, so you've met Miguel's daughter," Isaac replied, turning onto the main road.

"I've known his daughter," Artie informed him. "For awhile now. We go to the same school. She... hates my guts."

_"Really?_" Isaac laughed appreciatively while Artie scowled in return. As he noticed the look on Artie's face, Isaac's laughter tapered off. "Well, she's not the easiest person to get to know. She reminds me a lot of her brother. I love that girl. If I had a little sister, I'd want one her to be just like Santana. That works out well for me, actually, since our parents are dating now."

"She's awful," Artie couldn't keep himself from saying it, even after Isaac finished singing her praises. "How can you even like someone like her?"

Isaac exchanged a look with Artie before turning his attention back to the road. "Hm," he hummed. "Sounds like you just know the Santana that doesn't give a damn about what anyone else thinks and speaks her mind when most people wouldn't."

"And there's another Santana?" Artie replied, dubiously.

"Yeah," said Isaac, sighing slightly. "There is. You ought to consider the fact that you might not know all there is to know about her before you judge her too harshly, Art. She could turn out to surprise you. She's been through an awful lot at a young age." He glanced at Artie. "Kind of like you and I, bro."

"Am I being Punk'd?" Artie wanted to know. "Where's Ashton?"

Isaac laughed again. "Funny," he said. "But no. I'm serious."

Artie did not wish to discuss the secret angst and heatbreak of Santana Lopez. Even if she had apparently destroyed that medical information, it humiliated him to no end that she'd had the nerve to go that far. And then, glancing again at Isaac's frail, motionless legs, Artie remembered what she'd said to him on Sunday night. _"No need to worry about that because I already got rid of it."_If Santana had known Isaac for all these years, then suddenly, it kind of made sense.

"So, you're gonna show me the ReWalk, right?" Isaac shot him a hopeful look. Artie couldn't believe he hadn't even thought about it before, but Isaac obviously had. Momentarily forgetting the Santana factor, Artie allowed a grin to spread across his face. He nodded vigorously, watching the reaction that it produced from Isaac. The older guy got a strange, faraway look in his eyes. "I remember seeing that on the internet but thinking it would years before I was able to try it for myself."

Artie was glad to be the one to tell him. It was going to be like reliving that moment in the choir room all over again, but watching from a new perspective. "Today's the day you walk again, dude."


End file.
